


your hand touching mine (this is how galaxies collide)

by nutmeg101



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Football | Soccer, National Women's Soccer League, Rio 2016, US Women's Soccer National Team, Women's Professional Soccer, olympic shenanigans ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:42:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7143188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg101/pseuds/nutmeg101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five times hope and kelley just can’t stop flirting like oh my GOD & the one time they get really serious</p>
            </blockquote>





	your hand touching mine (this is how galaxies collide)

**Author's Note:**

> if this looks familiar, it's because i already posted this on only tumblr a while back.

**_i._  
**   


The ice on Kelley’s ankle melts fast under the blistering heat of Brazil’s sun. Manaus is hot and humid like no one could have imagined and the sweat that soaks through Kelley’s training shirt is heavy and unrelenting. Beneath her, the grass pokes at her back and neck while she has one arm draped across her eyes to shield the brightness away.

This is _not_ the way she wanted to finish her second training session—already nursing a knock.

Half of the team has already scurried inside the training facility where the air conditioning and shelter is welcomed like water in a desert. Tobin punts a ball at Kelley’s hip and Kelley removes the arm from her face, squinting one eye open.

“Are you coming?” Tobin asks, spritzing Kelley with her water bottle as she passes. “Or are you trying to even out your sunburn?”

“Coming.” Kelley mumbles, already feeling the skin on her nose starting to peel—it all makes Georgia summers feel like child’s play. “Just…give me a minute. I’m almost at full lobster.”

She shuts her eyes tightly again, this time laying out starfish style; the ice on her ankle having since turned into just a bag of water.

There are still the sounds of her teammates shuffling and talking around her and then suddenly, the red hue that burns bright inside the walls of her closed eyelids shades to black and her face no longer feels like it’s on fire. When Kelley reopens her eyes blinking into focus, Hope is hovering just above her, one hand on her hip and silhouetted under a halo of sunrays. She’s half grinning, half concerned and Kelley loses track of the number times her stomach flutters whenever Hope looks at her this way.

“That was a hefty knock you took.” Hope’s voice is soft and amused, etched with the exhaustion of a double session.

“What can I say? I believe I can fly.”

“No kidding, R Kelley. I’ve never seen someone go down so hard and come out with such little consequence.”

“Oh, I can go down alright.” Kelley face grows incessantly smug and she flicks the once-was ice bag at Hope, leaving a splat and wet mark on her shin. Hope scoffs, rolling her eyes and Kelley shoots her a small wink. “I don’t know about ‘such little consequence’ though.” She adds.

Hope fidgets with the drawstring bag that hangs over her shoulder, her blush masked by her own imminent sunburn. She adjusts her position so to shade Kelley more. She remembers the last time Kelley had a _bad_ sunburn; no one heard the end of it. “I just mean you can walk. It could have been so much worse.”

“Yeah, tell Becky to cool her jets next time. Save that fuel for the final.”

“And let's preserve you for the first game, how about that?”

The corner of Kelley’s mouth quirks into a smile and from this angle, Hope looks so big, even more dominant than usual and Kelley has the perfect view of Hope’s abs when she lifts her shirt up to wipe the sweat away from her face. Kelley doesn’t hide the fact that she’s staring because she knows Hope loves it.

“Deal.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Hope says, tucking her grass stained gloves under her arm and extending a free hand out to Kelley. “You’ll get heatstroke laying in the sun like this. You need water. And to get that ankle checked out.”

Kelley complies, reaching up and letting her hand fall into Hope’s. The contact is warm; palms slick with sweat even through the athletic tape that half dresses Hope’s hand. Kelley is light and Hope pulls her up in one fluid motion. It’s a little too forceful and Kelley stumbles into her, shoulders brushing and bodies momentarily pressed together. They exchange a timid smile once they reestablish a casual amount of the space between them.

It takes Kelley a moment to regain her balance, to let her ankle take the weight of her body. She might use it as an excuse to not let go of Hope just yet, but both of them well aware that Kelley is more than capable. And yet, Hope’s grasp is strong and protective around Kelley’s small and slender fingers; and Kelley lets herself indulge and squeeze Hope’s hand once before she might not get the chance to again.

It’s not until Carli jogs past them and gives them a _look—_ a familiar look that makes Kelley’s already warm face even warmer, and that prompts a glaring one from Hope—that they both let go.

“Water.” Kelley says, eyes trained past Hope at nothing in particular.

“Right.” Hope nods, taking Kelley’s training bag for her.

They walk (Kelley hobbles) next to each other in silence until they’re inside and Dawn pulls Kelley away for a medical examination.

  
_**ii.  
** _

 

The morning after their first 2-0 win over Zimbabwe, Kelley meanders into the training room in search of Alex. She’s been missing her phone charger for almost a day and a half now and she suspects she knows who the culprit is.

Instead, the training room is rather deserted and she only finds Tobin who is laugh-grimacing and taking photos of the needles that dot Christen’s knee; and Hope who is perched onto a training table, seemingly bored out of her mind. Her expression only lifts when she sees Kelley striding towards her.

“What’s up, Solo?” Kelley asks Hope after exchanging some brief words with Christen and Tobin on the far side of the room.

“Waiting for Graeme. He’s late as usual and this hand won’t heal itself.” She sighs, waving her left hand in the air.

Kelley hops up onto the table next to Hope, the paper crinkling as she makes herself comfortable. “What happened?”

“Zimbabwe’s striker has a fierce shot.”

Kelley nods in agreement. She knows, having blocked a shot of her own with her thigh. The imprint of the ball is still there and now she remembers the way Hope had coiled her hand back into her body after deflecting the ball around the post and out of play.

“Where does it hurt?” Kelley asks.

Hope shrugs. “Doesn’t really _hurt,_ it’s just uncomfortable and it has to get better before De Vanna decides to drill a shot of her own at me on Tuesday.”

“Well if she’s any good, she’ll drill the shot _around_ you.”

“Yeah, I hope not.” Hope presses her shoulder into Kelley’s, to which Kelley presses back. They exchange a series of quiet smiles, their eyes speaking the loudest.

“Here.” Kelley offers, holding her hand out and open for Hope’s. “I know a thing or two about massage therapy. May I?”

Hope lifts an eyebrow, skeptical, but Kelley isn’t joking and Hope is curious, if not completely intrigued, so she angles herself inward towards Kelley and gives her her hand.

Kelley takes it slow and nervous, the warmth and strength of Hope’s hand overwhelming her. She watches Hope watch her hands.

Somewhere across the room, Tobin and Christen exchange a look.

It’s casual, mostly. Kelley softly massaging the web between Hope’s thumb and index finger then gently kneading her thumbs into Hope’s palm, all rough and calloused; a result of the years she’s given to the sport she loves.

Kelley idly wonders if this is somehow crossing a line. Under any other circumstance, the thought would never cross her mind. But this is Hope, and she and Hope have this sorted history that no one, not even themselves really understands. Nothing has ever _happened_ between them, per se, but it could have and it almost did. Several times. And now, the tan line left behind from Jerramy’s wedding ring still hasn’t completely faded and Kelley is wondering how far whatever this is goes and what it means. If anything at all.

“Relax.” Kelley mumbles, feeling the rigidity of Hope’s hand and the way the muscles tense. Eventually, Hope does and her hand falls limp and unguarded into Kelley’s. And it feels good, maybe better than it should and Hope has to remind herself to not let whatever feelings she has get the better of her like they did in London four years ago.

Slowly, Hope lifts her gaze to find Kelley’s, but Kelley’s has settled onto their hands. Kelley’s touch is precise and calculated, her fingers moving deftly like’s been waiting for a moment like this.

It isn’t casual anymore and the closeness and familiarity feels dangerous; like a ticking time bomb.

The room has since fallen silent. Tobin and Christen aggressively try to not watch, looking anywhere but in their direction. It feels like they’re imposing on a very private moment not meant for anyone to see. Tobin actually tries to leave, but Christen doesn’t let her.

Hope’s pulse beats softly beneath Kelley’s fingertips, and Kelley isn’t going crazy when she actually feels it.

It’s enough to make her stop.

Not because she wants to, god she doesn’t want to, but she’s starting to rationalize it too much and she wishes she could just hold Hope’s hand for the sake of holding her hand. Also, she’s aware that they aren’t alone.

Still, Hope’s hand remains where it is, palm up cradled in between Kelley’s.

“Better?” Kelley manages through a swallow. The tips of ears are red and Hope’s eyes burn bright into her.

Hope nods then whispers so lowly it’s practically inaudible. “Much.”

Kelley is reluctant to let go and Hope even more so to let her, but Graeme’s voice is bellowing from down the hall. Kelley pulls her hands away, but not before letting her fingers trail Hope’s for as long as she can feeling the grooves of all her palm lines; until Graeme pushes through the door and Kelley has to slide off the table.

Hope tucks her hands into her lap like everything that had just happened had been completely normal and she isn’t re-questioning the way she feels about Kelley. 

It was just a stupid hand massage, for god's sake.

 

_**iii.** _

 

The torrential downpour in Sao Paolo cancels the team training session despite the loom of the quarterfinals just days away. Winds are gusty and the thunder and lightning are ferocious; any and all hope of sunshine completely gone. With nothing to do, Becky and HAO host a movie afternoon in their hotel room. Only some of the team partakes, bodies crammed onto the two beds and it’s no coincidence when Kelley winds up squished in close beside Hope.

Cold air blasts from the air-conditioning unit mounted to the ceiling and underneath the starchy duvet, Kelley can’t quite trust herself to keep her hands to herself especially when all she can feel is the warm flush of Hope’s body.

On the other side of Kelley, Ali leans onto Ashlyn and she is guiltily bitter about it.

“Sorry.” Hope mumbles when her hand “accidentally” grazes Kelley’s knee.

“Don’t be.” Kelley smiles, all soft and warm like she knows how to get a reaction out of Hope.

They’re both quick to dismiss the way their eyes meet momentarily and repeatedly, but that doesn’t stop Kelley from testing her limits.

“Are you out of clean laundry already?” She says taking deliberate note of the fact that Hope is, for whatever reason, only wearing a sports bra. (Though it’s the very first thing she had noticed when she had entered the room.)

“I might be. Care to lend me a shirt?”

“Not really. I prefer this look on you.”

Their quiet conversation gets lost in the rest of chatter of the room, the nervousness they won’t dare to admit diffusing into laughter while HAO struggles to get Netflix up and running—Brazilian wi-fi is _slow._

Hardly even a few minutes into _The Avengers_ , Hope looks to Kelley once slow and subtle (or so she thinks). She’s trying to get a read her though that’s never been quite a challenge, always as open as a book, heart on her sleeve. She wants to know if Kelley is feeling the same way she is, that she’s not completely out in left field for dissolving into some muddle of emotion anytime Kelley so much as looks at her.

She doesn’t remember it being this intense four years ago.

Hope gets her answer in the way Kelley can’t look anywhere but straight at the TV, the redness of her cheeks spreading all the way to her neck.

Twenty minutes pass and only half of the room is paying attention to the movie. Ali has fallen asleep on Ashlyn’s shoulder while Ashlyn scrolls through twitter, Moe is on the floor reading a book next to Becky who is painting her nails, and Kling is half blankly staring out the window willing the rain to stop.

Tobin and Heather seem to be only ones watching laid out on their stomachs, chins in their hands even if Tobin has already seen the movie like three times.

Hope and Kelley on the other hand are in a different world; a world of their own. Both of them have been reduced to sitting ramrod straight in some dubious attempt to keep their hands to themselves, to behave. It works for a while. Hope’s hands are under the covers and in her lap while Kelley’s rest above the covers, picking restlessly at the threads.

It works until Kelley’s hands disappear _under_ the covers and neither of them are even aware of the implications just yet. Kelley stretches her arms out, her elbows cracking the process, and that’s when her knuckles brush against Hope’s. It’s by all means innocent until Kelley lets it linger because both of them are sure one of them is going to pull away.

Neither of them do.

They glance quickly at each other and Kelley smirks. She can’t help it; it’s instinctual at this point. It’s the smallest twitch of her lip and Hope catches it and that’s all it takes for their pinkies to find each other and link together.

Both of them wonder if they’re being as coy as they think they are.

Little by little, one pinky turns into two fingers, turns into Hope and Kelley nervously teasing at each other’s hands under the covers like it’s so unthinkable that they might crave physical contact until Hope decides _fuck it_ because she’s no longer in a position where she has to deny herself of such a simple but intimate pleasure with someone she really likes and laces her fingers in between Kelley’s.

It flashes like lightning between them.

Kelley’s heart is thumping in her throat and this time, when it’s her who looks to Hope, Hope’s eyes are already on her and Kelley can see her own temptation reflected in them.

The rest of the movie turns into nothing but background noise, the buzzing between them much too loud to focus anything else.

 

_**iv.** _

 

Hope is the last one left in the dressing room after their hard fought win over Sweden in the semifinal. The showers around the corner drip sporadically and the water droplets hitting the metal drains below them echo hollowly throughout the tiled walls and floor. It smells strong of dirt and sweat mixed in with the ever-fading scent of deodorant and shampoo.

It had been well over a hundred degrees today and not a single cloud in sight. Regulation time had ended in a 2-2 draw and the cooling break before extra time had not been nearly long enough. Luckily for the USA, it takes one last goal in the 103rd minute to seal victory.

They’re final bound.

Hope is still putting her shoes on while she pretends her old shoulder injury isn’t acting up again, her fingers prodding into the sore spots. She’s just onto her feet and zipping up her bag when the sound of someone running against the concrete floor outside the dressing room gets closer and louder until Kelley darts into the room.

“Oh.” Kelley stops, her face lighting up. “Hey. I didn’t think anyone was in here anymore.”

“What did you forget?” Hope laughs, heart swiftly ballooning at the sight of Kelley. It’s crazy, she knows, but she can’t forget the way Kelley’s hand had felt in hers the other day. She can’t forget the way she used to feel about Kelley before Jerramy; and if she’s being honest, while she was with him too.

“You, apparently. Also my necklace.”

Hope nods and there’s a laugh caught in her chest. She watches as Kelley rises to her tiptoes and pats around the top shelf of the locker she occupied.

“Need a lift, kid?” Hope quips.

Kelley snorts, finally pulling her necklace off the shelf. “Maybe I’d be more offended if I didn’t already like you so much.” 

When she turns around, Hope has moved closer and is leaning coolly against the adjacent locker, arms folded.

“Is that a theory you’re willing to test?”

“Test me and find out.”

The air grows charged around them and Hope’s eyes widen at the challenge. From this close, she finds it impossible to _not_ stare at Kelley’s lips.

Kelley sucks in a breath, like she’s waiting for Hope to kiss her. Like she _knows_ Hope is going to because at this point, it’s a matter of _when_ and not _if._

Instead, when Hope takes another step forward, she reaches for the necklace in Kelley’s hand and Kelley swallows hard, feeling her heart expand into the corners of her chest and her cheeks colour scarlet. Her breath comes out jaggedly.

“Let me.” Hope offers, placing her hands around Kelley’s neck. Her fingertips brush softly against her nape and Kelley does the smallest of shivers.

Each second that passes finds Kelley gravitating closer and it’s obvious that Hope is too. They both just let each other stare, eyes on lips, eyes on chest, eyes everywhere. When Hope finally gets the clasp, she lets her right hand trail down the silver chain and over her collarbone. When she reaches the heart shaped charm that hangs at the end, she fiddles at it, letting herself thumb over it.

“You’ve had this for years.” Hope notes, resting her hand just over Kelley’s heart.

All Kelley can do is nod because she’s one short breath away from kissing Hope and Hope knows it. Hope _wants_ it.

“Not here.” Hope whispers just shy of Kelley’s mouth, words ghosting over her lips and Hope can feel the pulse underneath her palm.

Kelley falls back onto her heels. She exhales and nods again. Hope isn’t wrong; this isn’t the right time or place. There’s a busload of teammates waiting for them and Hope really needs to ice her shoulder. And if Kelley kisses Hope now, she isn’t sure if she’ll able to stop.

“Sit with me on the bus?” Hope asks. It’s a lame compromise, but Kelley takes it.

The walk to the bus feels like an eternity.

 

_**v.** _

 

Two nights before the final, Hope and Kelley quietly steal away from the athlete’s village after dinner. They hail a cab suffused with the scent of cigars and stale air freshener into Rio’s city centre where the streets are vibrant with colour and alive with the sounds of classical guitar and happy chatter. Together they wander the cobblestone still slick with this afternoon’s rain shower while they eat ice cream and admire the architecture.

A couple of times Kelley might catch Hope gazing at her like she’s the scenery, all glowing and sun kissed even under the starlit sky and it sends her stomach into a flurry of butterflies. And a couple of times Hope might take Kelley by the hand as she leads them down different roads and alleyways.

Conversation is scarce, not for any other reason than the fact that they’re enamored with the beauty of the city and that they’re just happy to finally be alone together without the interruption or wandering eyes of their teammates, as brief as it may be.

They walk and walk and walk until they find themselves sitting on the stairs of a small church nestled on a quiet back street away from the hustle and bustle of locals, tourist, and partygoers alike. Its white walls are turned grey with years of history etched into them and the rusty bell that hangs in the steeple chimes quietly every so often in the breeze. Out in the grassy square before them, small groups children run and play under the fluorescent glow of the street lamps while their parents watch on from a distance.

Ahead of them, a group of young boys kick around a tattered soccer ball. The one in the Thiago Silva jersey stands out the most and the nostalgia of being kids hits them in waves until slowly the stress of the final game begins to dissipate.

“You know, I think the colour gold is really starting to suit us.” Kelley says, small smile and all bright eyed much the first time she had ever met Hope.

“Hey.” Hope says, turning her head to find Kelley. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. A lot of things can happen in 90 minutes.”

“But it’s _Canada.”_

“Exactly. It’s _Canada._ ”

They laugh, big and hearty, reminiscing about that truly spectacular quarterfinal game. Hope recounts the events in such vivid detail that Kelley can practically feel herself in the stadium again; and Kelley uses big hand gestures to paint the picture. They retell the story of the entire tournament as if they both weren’t there experiencing it together. And most notably, they actively leave out the part about how Hope had Jerramy, Kelley had sadness, and together they had something achingly unspoken.

When Kelley’s hand gestures get too wild and out of control, Hope laughs, gently grabs at her wrist and brings her arm down into her lap where their fingers settle together committedly like they’ve done it a million times. They exchange yet another series of smiles and glances and Hope lets the fingers of her other hand walk up the length of Kelley’s forearm until they reach the crease where the bend in her arm is. The trail of goosebumps that follows is undeniable and then Hope just stops. She looks at Kelley differently than she has all week. This time there’s a weight behind it.

“This is going to be my last tournament.” Hope says quick and to the point for the first time ever.

Kelley blinks, her chest tightening and body tingling in all the wrong ways. She’s had the idea for a while, Hope has hinted at it, but she has never let herself truly acknowledge it until now.

“Even if we go out with silver.” Hope adds for some sort of comic relief, trying to coerce something out of Kelley.

Kelley manages a nod, almost indistinguishable.

“Who else knows?”

“You’re the first.”

Everything in Kelley feels heavy with the thought that the person who has been the most influential both off and on the pitch won’t be around much longer. The person who has shaped her confidence and even bits of her heart. Kelley knows Hope isn’t going to disappear from her life, but she knows it’s going to be different. It happened with Abby, it happened with Lauren.

“When are you telling the rest of the team?”

Hope shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe after the final. Maybe back in states. I think in their heart of hearts they already know.”

Kelley nods again. She understands though, of course she does. She has to.

“You gotta go big before you go home, then.” Kelley offers, her eyes slowly but genuinely warming. She can’t change Hope’s mind, but she can dull the sting. She can find the positivity and the game will go on without her.

“So gold, then.” Hope is confident this time.

“Gold.” Kelley affirms.

The moment is significant, the words so raw they bleed, and for a while, they just let it be and sit there in silence.

Eventually, Kelley has to break the silence. The air is getting heavy and she needs to lighten it. She keeps catching Hope glancing at her out of the corner of her eye and it has her feeling the same way she did when they almost kissed in the dressing the room.

Like fire.

“So how much longer are we going to flirt like this before something comes of it?”

As quickly as she says it, Hope’s eyes brighten and the gravity of her expression crossfades into something more brazen and electric and they instinctively inch closer. The heaviness is gone. (For now.)

“Flirting?” Hope raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think you’re even my type?”

“Am I not?” Kelley cocks her head. “Enlighten me, then.”

Hope’s grin is salacious. Her gaze settles onto Kelley’s lips and Kelley dips her head down to follow Hope’s eyes.

“I’m up here.” Kelley whispers, drawing Hope’s gaze back up.

“What if what I want is down there?” Hope eyes flicker back down immediately.

“I thought I wasn’t your type.”

“I never said _that._ ”

Kelley doesn’t get another word out before Hope has a hand cradled around the back of her neck and is guiding their mouths together.

The kiss is warm and soft and they melt like putty into each other. Hope tastes sweet like vanilla ice cream and Kelley’s head spins so fast that her knees wobble even if she’s already sitting down. Only when neither of them can breathe anymore do they finally break for air.

It’s then, Hope’s hand cupping Kelley’s cheek and Kelley trying desperately to catch her breath that Kelley vows something to herself.

She’ll play the final for Hope.

 

**_+++_ **

 

Kelley scores the one and only goal, a screamer of a volley from 18 yards out, late into the second half and Hope goes out a champion decorated in gold.

 

_**end.** _


End file.
